


The Truth of the Matter

by bibliomaniac



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17147972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliomaniac/pseuds/bibliomaniac
Summary: Gavin Reed spends years crushing on Hank Anderson and years kind-of-sort-of-secretly-not-really hating the guy. He never expected he would be hissoulmate, but that's just his luck, he guesses.(It ends up a lot luckier than he thought, but don't point that out or he'll punch you.)((aka a hankvin secret santa gift for monica with: a lot of swearing and even more em-dashes))





	The Truth of the Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mpmwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpmwrites/gifts).



> hey so! my assigned secret santee for the dbhevents secret santa exchange was monica, who wanted hankvin and fluff. this...unfortunately ended up less fluffy all the way through than i had kinda intended. sorry about that! it ends up fluffy i promise! it just got away from me because gavin decided to bitch endlessly. i hope you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> cws for this fic include: lots of swearing, brief mention of childhood bullying for learning disability (dyslexia), a lot of hopelessness/anger/pessimism about love, though later refuted; some internalized ableism and ableist language; some internalized hatred and low self esteem, innuendo, non-graphic reference to masturbation, non-graphic brief reference to d/s dynamics in fantasy, non-graphic reference to blowjobs, gavin has a crush on hank while hank is married (though he does not know this initially), brief reference to implied past dysfunctional family situations, cole shows up briefly and then his death and the impacts thereof are mentioned (aka child death via car crash), alcohol abuse and alcoholism, gavin and hank's relationship (as partners in the force, not romantically) isn't very healthy for a while, awkward situations / potential secondhand embarrassment

He'd punch anybody who tried to say it, but the truth of the matter is this: growing up, Gavin Reed was kind of a romantic. He watched all the shitty romcoms he could get his dumbass adolescent paws on, read a few books even, and if you knew how much Gavin Reed hated books, you'd know how invested that meant he was. (Comes from having dyslexia and a bunch of dick kids taunting you about it. Hey, _Reed,_  why are you so bad at _reading_  if it's in your _name?_  He still scowls whenever he thinks of it. Fuck off, seriously. Not like he chose his name or his learning disability or any fucking other thing about his life. Kids are dicks and he stands by that. Also, they're like, always sticky. Gross.)

Anyway, point he's going for is, he was really into all that romance shit, and with all that romance shit came a lot of soulmate shit. It makes sense. If it's, like, an option to write a story about two people destined to be together by—like, they don't even know, but the universe, or God, or biology or whatever—then yeah, a lot of people are gonna go for that. There's stuff out there too, about—oh we couldn't find our soulmates but we still love each other, or—you know, my soulmate died, can I ever find love again, my soulmate's a dick, you make me believe for the first time I didn't deserve that, yadda yadda. But by and large, the material is about soulmates, going through incredible odds and unbelievable scenarios but still always coming back to each other. 'Cause fate, or whatever. And 'cause that shit sells. So.

So, soulmate shit sells, and dumbass baby Gavin bought into it all the way. He used to dream of what it might be like, having a soulmate. Everybody has one, though not everybody meets them, but baby Gavin wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking, what will they look like? Will they be nice? Will they tell me they love me all the time?

(Later, he'd wonder, would I believe them if they did? And, even later than that, he'd think, no, probably not, but with my luck the asshole probably wouldn't even bother.)

But, back to baby Gavin, that glorious dumbfuck bastard. What he had probably spent the most time thinking about was what they'd say when they met each other for the first time. You only know your soulmate by touching them, or them touching you. When they do, you get this kind of shimmery patch where it happened. Lots of people look like they dipped their hand into glitter because they shook the person's hand; some people have it on their shoulder where they bumped into somebody. And Gavin had wondered where it'd be. On his hands, on his shoulder, his cheek? His wrist, maybe? And what would they say after they knew? He'd think about the perfect thing to say back to them—hello, I guess we're meant to be together forever. Hi, what's your name? I'm Gavin Reed and I love you.

Dumb. He was so dumb.

As he got older, he thought of different things to say. I've been waiting for you. Or, older still: What the fuck took you so long? Don't you know how hard it's been without you? Don't you know how much I wanted to have somebody hold me and tell me things would be all right, that there's somebody out there who could love me?

And then he met Hank Anderson, and that's pretty much when he stopped believing in soulmates—like, him having one, specifically—for good.

In the police academy, everybody knew about Hank Anderson. Local hero, really. They'd study his cases sometimes, and he was on the news all the time. Guy kicked ass and took charge on the regular, dismantling Red Ice rings casually and singlemindedly and all with this hot-as-fuck lopsided smile. Not-so-baby-anymore-but-still-a-dumbass Gavin Reed had taken a look at that smile, at the gap in his teeth and his intense blue eyes and the blonde of his hair starting to silver at the temples, and he hadn't thought much at all. Mostly he had just jerked off a lot, really, thinking about that smile aimed at him, those eyes roaming appreciatively over him while he told him what to do and that he was being so good for him. Or naughty. Depended on the day.

It only got worse from there, obviously, because Gavin's life fucking sucks and the universe hates him, and all. Because Gavin's scores had been good enough at the academy to get assigned to the central district, ay-kay-fucking-ay _Hank Anderson's_  district. And, like, God, if he was hot on TV, he's even hotter in person. And _nice,_  too, Christ. Like, he went out of his way to introduce himself to all the newbies. Including Gavin. Said to ask if he ever needed anything, and it was pretty obviously one of those things you just say, but also holy mother of fuck it took everything in him to keep from kneeling and saying 'you, I need you, what are your feelings on blowjobs because you look like you're packing and I don't mean guns obviously, I mean your dick, can I suck it please please.'

To reiterate: dumb, so fucking dumb. But also like, _everybody_ liked Hank, so Gavin doesn't think he's the only one even if maybe he's the worst. He's got this easy way with people, all casual touches and remembering that their mom had a heart surgery a few weeks ago, right, how's she holding up. Sure, he's kinda coarse about it, gruff and a bit sarcastic, but—he's good. Good people, Gavin's social worker would've said. 

Gavin lusts in secret and nurses his growing crush in even secret-er, and it's pretty fine, except for then everything goes to complete shit. First, Gavin finds out that Hank is married. Has a kid, even, six years old, which Gavin discovers because he comes running into the precinct yelling "Daddy, daddy, I'm six," and Hank hefts him up with the brightest grin Gavin's ever seen on him and goes, like, "Six? That can't be right, I'm pretty sure you're still three," and they do that cringe-y dad-son back and forth for a bit before they are able to finally come to an agreement that yes, the kid is six, it's his birthday, they're both very pumped about it, whoop-dee-fucking-do.

(Okay, like, the kid's actually cute and all and Hank is very cute with him, but also. Like. Subtext, read it.)

The wife comes in soon after, talking about how bad parking is at the district, and Hank drops a quick kiss on her lips after covering the kid's eyes, and they have this murmured married conversation, and, just—fuck. Gavin knows he's being petty as fuck here. Hank isn't his, nowhere even remotely. He doesn't have the right to be getting all pissy about him being super fucking married and super fucking kid-having, but he is anyway, because it also means that Hank is super fucking not Gavin's soulmate, and he had kinda fucking been hoping he was.

Maybe a lot, actually. Fuck him. Fuck his life. God.

Hank notices him watching at some point and gives one of those lopsided smiles—not as bright as the one he gave his kid, but, you know. Still the one Gavin likes so much. And he walks a bit closer, says, "Hey, Reed. Have you met Cole yet?"

"No," he mumbles, cowed and kicking at the floor awkwardly.

"Hi, Reed!" the kid—Cole—says, and his mouth shapes oddly around the _r,_  turning it into a soft 'w'. Weed. He'd laugh if he, you know, felt like laughing at all, and not like throwing shit at a wall. 

"Hey...buddy." He attempts a smile.

"Reed here works on finding the _really super_  bad guys," Hank says in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning at Gavin like he's in on the joke. He isn't.

"Like supervillains?" 

"Exactly like supervillains," Gavin ekes out. Polite. He can be polite. 

Hank pauses, peering at him, and then fucking _winks._  Gavin wants to die. "Hey, Cole, I think there's something special for you in the break room, if you wanna...?"

"Yeah!" Cole cheers, and hops down from Hank's hip to go charging towards the break room. There's cupcakes there with a note on them— _don't eat unless you're Cole or Cole says you can._  Gavin had been kind of confused, but solving the mystery doesn't feel great.

Hank gets a little closer, voice dropping low. "Thanks for playing along, Reed. I know you don't really like kids."

Gavin doesn't even bother asking how he knows. Hank knows everything, except apparently that he just broke Gavin's heart a little. "Uh. Yeah. No problem."

Hank smiles again, and then reaches out in one of those little touches he gives to everybody, but Gavin _can't._  He can't let Hank touch him, because then he _knows_  for absolute sure that Hank isn't his soulmate, he _knows_  that Hank isn't his, and—like, yeah, he knows, but he doesn't think he can take that confirmation right now. 

"Don't touch me," he snaps, and Hank recoils, looking shocked and then a little bit hurt before the easy smile returns.

"Oh. Sorry about that. Have a good rest of the day, kid."

Kid. He might as well have slapped him right in the face. Gavin keeps up a poor rictus of a smile until Hank is out of sight, and then he flees to the bathroom and splashes some water on his face and doesn't cry, because he's a grownup and a goddamn professional, damn it. And if he cries later, well. That's nobody's fucking business, is it.

The complete-shit-going only keeps happening, though: not too long after, Hank goes out of commission for a few weeks, and when Gavin asks up about it, he's told in hushed whispers that the kid _died._  Some nasty car crash. Makes Gavin feel even more like shit for being petty. He chips in to the office fund for some flowers and a donation to some foundation or other in the kid's name, but he isn't invited to the funeral, and he wouldn't want to be either.

When Hank comes back he's—different. In a lot of ways. He hasn't shaved, and he has all these bags under his eyes, and he looks tired as fuck and defeated and he's definitely drunk. The time after that still isn't something Gavin likes to think about, but here's the short of what's a way too long story: Hank keeps being drunk. His attendance and punctuality and work ethic drops in a major way. Fowler yells at him a lot. Sometimes Hank yells back, but mostly he just sits there like this sad vacant corpse. Eventually Fowler throws up his hands and moves him to the homicide division. He's assigned Reed as his partner, he says; maybe the responsibility of mentoring will shape up his act.

It doesn't.

Work gossip says that Hank and his wife are getting a divorce. "I kind of expected," the whispers trail through the break room, "You know, it's always so risky when you marry someone who's not your soulmate..." And that's a shock, of course, that they weren't soulmates, but. Well. Doesn't really help. Hank is still teetering dangerously close to becoming an alcoholic, and not a very functional one at that. Gavin's flirted with alcohol long enough to know it takes some doing to get used to, and Hank hasn't...done. For long enough. Maybe he'll eventually get to the point where he's not always slurring his speech and stumbling around, but not right now.

Not fast enough for Gavin, who is now just really fucking pissed at him. And his life, still, always that, but—seriously? He gets partnered up with Hank, who, like. Even before he was his crush, he was kind of his fucking _hero,_  all right? Youngest lieutenant in the history of the DPD. Badass advocate for justice, all that jazz. And now Gavin finally gets to see him all the time, be partners with him, and he spends the whole day three sheets to the fucking wind. God. His luck is really something.

And you wanna know the worst part? Like, the absolute _worst_  part of what's already the most spectacular shitshow this side of Detroit? The absolute fucking worst part is—like, okay. Hank is drunk and he's a shitty partner, and even three years later when the alcohol doesn't get to him as bad he's still a shitty partner. Mouthy and judgy and kinda angry all the time. They spend a good chunk of their time arguing and the rest of it pissed at each other or flipping each other off or, well, all of the above. He's drunk and he's a shitty partner and sometimes a shitty fucking person, and Reed hates his old drunk ass, but also sometimes he kind of doesn't.

That's the worst part. The worst part is Gavin has every reason to hate Hank's guts one hundred percent of the time. He should hate seeing him, he should hate talking to him, he should hate being around him, but—sometimes he doesn't. When Hank chews him out for not having lunch even though he's bad about eating himself, for example, or when he takes one look at the dark circles under his eyes and announces that he's not gonna bother staying late today, so Reed might as well go home early. Times like that, and way too many others, Gavin doesn't hate Hank. And that fucking _sucks._  Because when he doesn't hate him sometimes it hurts that Hank so clearly disapproves of him and everything he does (his perfect record had gone right down the fucking toilet along with Hank's, though he'd never admit they're connected). When he doesn't hate him he's reminded that he's the worst kind of fucked up, that he never really learned how to let somebody love him, so—like, what does it say about him that he's still kind of in love with someone who hates him, who he ostensibly hates right back?

Nothing fucking good, is what. Nothing fucking good at all.

Through all of this, for three years being Hank's partner, Hank never once touches him. Not even close. He guesses Hank took that one time to heart, and—and that's good, should be, but he'd be lying if he said he also doesn't sometimes kind of mind. Hank still casually touches other people, and the lack of physical contact between them is almost jarringly blatant in contrast.

Anyway, so. All this background to say that Gavin had imagined saying a lot of things when he first met his soulmate, once upon a time, but he had never imagined saying what he _actually_ says, which is, "What the fuck. Holy fucking shit. What the fuck? You have to be fucking joking, oh my God. Holy fucking fuck—"

Hank, who had accidentally brushed against his neck with his fingertips while they were making sure the warehouse they're looking over is empty, looks just as gobsmacked. "Holy fuck," he mumbles, looking down at his fingertips, now lightly dusted with a shimmery silver. 

"What in the fucking helldamned shitballs—"

"Reed," Hank hisses, and almost immediately looks like he regrets getting his attention. "I—we're talking about this later, but—we still have to make sure this place is secure. Okay?"

Gavin blinks, too rapid, probably looking dumb as shit, and nods. "Okay. Yeah. Fuck."

The perp isn't even fucking there—because, you know, _Gavin Reed's fucking luck_ —and so they're left to report it in and then just...ride back to the station together.

In the same car.

The silence makes Gavin want to jump out. He knows how to roll out safely. Maybe it'll even look badass—

"So, uh," Hank starts hesitantly, and Gavin groans.

"Oh my God."

"What, do you just not wanna bring it up? Like, for forever?" Hank snaps, then gets that instant-regret look on his face again.

"Kinda!" Gavin says snippily, slouching down in the passenger side seat of the dumb manual car Hank insists on using. 

"God," Hank says, taking one hand off the steering wheel to drag it over his face. "Look, Reed. I know you hate me."

Gavin doesn't say anything in response, only slides down further.

"So...I mean, if...if you really don't want to ever talk about it again...then. You know. That's...we can do that. Hell, if I were you I'd be—I mean, yeah. I'd be fucking pissed right now. I wasn't..." He sighs, suddenly looking incredibly weary. A lot older than he is, actually. "I wasn't expecting at this point anybody to get saddled with me. I'm old and cranky and real fucked up, and I know this ain't news to you, either. _I_ wouldn't wanna be paired up with me, that's for damn sure."

Gavin squints at his hands, thinking. He woulda thought Hank would lead with—you know, the part where he hates him too? 'Cause that's—well, that's the scary part of all this. The part he never even wanted to think about, not that he'd thought about Hank being his soulmate for a long, long time. That Hank could be his soulmate and still not want him.

"So. Just say the word, and we drop it. No pressure, no change, just—we keep going the same way. Yeah?"

"You know," Gavin says after a few moments, "Almost sounds like, uh...like you'd rather we not, though."

Hank exhales, slow, exhausted. "Christ. I mean—fuck. Everybody dreams of the day they meet their soulmate, you know?" It sounds like a confession. Probably is. He'd been married to somebody he wasn't soulmated to; it probably wasn't something he could talk about a lot.

"And then it's just me, huh?" Gavin knows his voice is bitter, but he doesn't give enough of a shit to try and pretend he's not even if he could. 

" _Just_ you? Jesus, Reed. Give yourself a little credit."

"Why?" Gavin snarls, knowing he's giving up too much right now, not able to stop. " _You_  never did."

It almost seems like Hank doesn't react, except for his brow furrowing a little, but then he's pulling over on the side of the road, putting the car in park, looking at Gavin expectantly. "Okay, I feel like I'm missing something."

"Directions back to the precinct?" Gavin tries, heart starting to pound unevenly as he realizes what a hole he's dug for himself. Fuck. He shoulda taken Hank's out. Fuck, God, Hank is going to make him _talk._  He fucking _hates_  talking.

"Don't be a little shit. Reed...maybe I missed something, but if I did I missed something real big. I thought you _hated_  me. And, I mean, I get that. Not gonna blame you for that. But—not giving you credit? What the hell do you mean? Did I _do_  something?"

Gavin presses his lips together and looks out the window.

" _Gavin."_  And...fuck. Gavin doesn't think he's _ever_  heard Hank say his name like that—just his first name, nothing else. He shudders instinctively, arms wrapping around himself to anchor himself here. God. God, he can't do this.

"You hate _me,"_  he finally says, too small and hurt and sad. Fuck, he hates himself right now. Not just right now, but—fuck. He sounds so _dumb._

"Not really," he hears Hank say, and slowly looks over at him. Suspicious. Hank shrugs uncertainly when their eyes meet. "I mean—yeah, I don't really like when people are rude to me. Don't think anybody does? But I don't hate you. You're—I don't know. You're angry, but you're not a bad kid." He runs a hand through his hair, mouth turned down at the corners. "Or maybe just angry at me."

He looks so, so tired, like he's already given up. Gavin hates seeing him like that. It reminds him of Hank right after Cole died, of realizing Hank was so much more human than he thought.

Human, but maybe not—awful.

"I don't hate you either," Gavin blurts out, and now it's his turn to immediately regret it, but—okay, well, he's a lot of things, but he's not a _quitter,_  all right. 

"No?" Hank asks, eyebrows creasing again, confused.

"No. You piss me off a lot and you're, I mean, you're a dick." Oh, God, don't think about his dick. "Like a huge douchebag. And an alcoholic, and, like, would it fucking _kill_  you to trim your beard maybe _ever?_  God, and don't even fucking get me _started_  on your casework, I don't even fucking think you realize how much paperwork I had to do for you for a while—"

"I'm kinda getting mixed messages here, kid," Hank says dryly.

"And you call me kid," Gavin adds on irritably. "Fuck, I hate that. But—but, I mean, you also, like, you're the only one who gives a shit if I keep eating, or if I'm not getting sleep. Or, like, I know you take the hits a lot for mistakes I make. You're...nice. Sometimes," he amends, because he still has his pride. (Yeah, like fuck he does at this point.) "And you have good taste in music, and you can be funny when you're not making dumbass dad jokes, and—"

Fuck, this is getting way too feelingsy. Abort abort abort.

"And you look like you have a big dick."

_Oh holy shitting baby Christ that's so much worse._

"I mean, just saying, like, probably. Or definitely. But like, not in a way that's saying I've thought about it." He finally manages to shut his mouth, eyes screwed shut.

"Uhhh," says Hank.

"Fuck."

"Uhhhhhhhh," offers Hank again. God, he's an idiot. Not as much as Gavin right now though.

"If you kill me now I promise not to press charges," Gavin says miserably.

"No...thanks," Hank says, and they sit in that same awful silence again for a while. "Can I just—what are you saying, exactly?"

_Idiot._  He doesn't even know why he likes him.

"I've had a crush on you since—since, like, the academy, all right?" Gavin snaps, and with it all of the tension in his body goes as he sags into the seat. Fuck. Well, that's just properly out there now. What a fucking day. "But then you were married, and I didn't know she wasn't—and I didn't want you to touch me because then—" He shakes his head. "And then Cole, and then—I mean, you really were a dick."

"True," Hank says, a bit strangled.

"So like, it's just whatever, it's just my fucking _luck,_  just my fucking  _life,_  because I finally gave up on having a soulmate and now I have one but everything's already fucked, _so._  Can we stop fucking _talking_  now?"

Hank is quiet long enough that Gavin opens one eye to peek at him. "You sure everything is already fucked?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" God, he wants a beer. Or lots. Lots of beer and like two packs of cigarettes.

"God," Hank mutters. "This is so fucking— _God._  Gavin, I didn't know about—I mean—I figured you were so antsy around me 'cause you hated my guts. So I'm, uh. Sorry for that. But—I've kept saying it, I'll keep saying it, I know I've been awful to you. Like, even if you've been mad too, I've been—like, I shoulda—and I'm sorry for that too. But. What I mean is...like, what I'm saying is just..."

"What?"

"What I'd _like_  to say is that, uh. If you...want to, like. Try? To—I'm not saying we have to just, like, be okay right away. I know I'm pretty fucked up, and—I mean, we probably both have shit to work out. But, like, if you're saying shit's fucked because you think I'm not, like...open, to...to giving it a go." Hank gives a helpless, one-sided shrug. "Then, I mean. You're wrong on that. I've been waiting on a soulmate longer than you have, and—and, I mean—it's not like I'm disappointed it's you."

Gavin stares at him. Hank returns his gaze, even if he's starting to shiver. It's cold out. Hank's coat is old. Gavin's always kind of wished he could get him a new one. One less godawful ugly, at least.

"You're still a dick."

"I—yeah. I think that's, like, that's pretty out in the open. By now. That you think that, and that I agree with you." There's a bit of Hank's normal tetchy sarcasm there, but Gavin will let it go this once.

"But." He looks straight ahead, sniffs once and again. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, yeah. To—trying. Or, uh. Whatever."

"Oh." Hank blinks slowly. "Well. Okay then."

"Okay."

"Okay," Hank returns, starting to grin—still not as bright as that Cole smile, but—more than Gavin's seen in a while.

"God, just fucking drive, will you? It's fucking freezing. I'm not crying if you get hypothermia."

"Uh-huh," Hank says, and starts driving, and—okay, this is really fucking dumb. Which Gavin is, as he's established, but this is especially fucking dumb, but also he's gonna say it anyway, just to himself: seeing that smile stay all the way back to the precinct, he really doesn't feel too cold anymore.

Everything else takes a while, after that. They still fight, and they still get angry, and they're still both real fucked up people. That all doesn't change just because they took a roll in special soulmate glitter. But—other shit does change, eventually. They hang out more, try to find out what they have in common instead of what keeps them apart. They kiss, and it's fucking awesome. Gavin confirms his dick hypothesis, and that is also fucking awesome. And awesome fucking.

(God, that's like halfway to a dad pun. Hank is starting to rub off on him, isn't he. It sucks.)

And it takes time, and a lot of work on both their ends, and things aren't always great, but—but still. He'd punch anybody who tried to point it out, but the truth of the matter at the end of it all is this:

Being with Hank, being Hank's soulmate and knowing Hank is his and he's Hank's and all that other sappy romance bullshit that maybe he secretly kind of loves again? Hank telling him he loves him and him being able to say that back? It might not have been exactly what he dreamed all those years back, but it still makes him pretty fucking happy and pretty fucking in love. 

And, well, that had always been the most important part, really.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, as always! to monica--i hope you enjoyed that, and merry christmas if you celebrate! if not or either way, merry...hankmas? y'all should check out her writing btw! as for me, i'm on twitter at [@boringbibs](https://twitter.com/boringbibs) and on tumblr still, ish, at [anuninterestingperson](http://anuninterestingperson.tumblr.com). 
> 
> have a lovely holiday season everybody!


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